Buster lay at the side of his desk, resting his old yellow labrador body as best he could. He felt tired and heavy and ready for this Friday to be over, ready to mark the end of yet another dreary week. The weekend meant two full days out of the office, away from any interruption or distraction. Two days Buster would have completely to himself, which was exactly the way he liked it.
No one really wanted to spend time with Buster anyway, so he felt it was in his best interests to keep to himself as much as possible. In his isolation, Buster could ensure he was never mocked for being so old, so slow, and so brittle in his aging body.
His skin hung looser than it used to in his old life. Bags had formed under his eyes. His coat didn’t shine the way it used to when he was younger, when things were simpler when everything made sense. All these things and more were weapons the other office dogs could use against him if he let them, so it was better that he didn’t socialize. Soon enough, his owner would take him back to her house, and they would spend another weekend watching TV together and taking their short evening walks.
Buster hadn’t let himself call her house his home. He had to admit that he didn’t hate the routine she created for him, the way it asked so little of him and didn’t require him to be anything that he was not. Still, it could never be his home. Buster had been around and seen enough to know something all the other office dogs did not: home was a myth. All the safety and security it offered was a lie. All of its supposed permanence could be taken away in an instant without any warning whatsoever.
Buster knew this without a doubt, but he kept his knowledge to himself, because that was the truest safety Buster knew–keeping to himself.
“Hey, Buster!”
Buster scowled. He did not turn his head to answer. He refused to greet this interruption. Every day this week the tiny overactive Vizsla pup Apollo had come rooting around, bothering him, annoying him until Buster could not take it anymore. He had no idea what the little brown dog’s angle was, and he frankly didn’t care to find out. Whatever little game Apollo was playing, Buster would not be tricked into playing along.
“Hey, Buster!” Apollo shouted again as he ran around the desk to stare Buster directly in the face. “I don’t think you heard me but I was calling for you because I wanted to see if today maybe you had any time and wanted to hang out because all week you’ve been busy but I’ve been trying to hang out with you and now it’s Friday so it’s our last chance this week, so are you busy again or can you finally hang out today?”
Buster sighed. All week long it had been this way. Apollo running up to interrupt his quiet solitude; talking fast, loud and at great length about wanting to hang out with him. Buster was sure it was a ruse meant to embarrass him, meant to get him to agree to hang out so Apollo could laugh in his face and tell him he never really wanted to hang out because who wants to hang out with an old dog like Buster? Then the other pups and dogs in the office would jump out of their hiding places and point and laugh. Buster had seen this kind of thing before, and he would not let himself fall victim to such cruelty again.
“Busy,” he told Apollo.
“See–
“See–I was worried you would say that because you’ve said that every day this week, but you don’t seem super busy to me. I mean, you just kinda lay here all day and do nothing so I was thinking maybe since you’re just busy laying here and doing nothing, maybe I could lay here and do nothing with you? And that would be okay maybe? And we could hang out like that, just laying here and doing nothing together, just the two of us?” Apollo smiled, broad and oblivious.
“No,” said Buster.
“But why not? I mean, you’re just laying here and you’re not really doing anything so I’m not even sure this technically counts as being busy under the strictest definition of the term when you stop to think about it so what does it really matter if there’s someone here with you while you’re laying her and doing nothing?”
“It matters,” Buster grunted. His curiosity got the better of him at that moment, and against his better judgment he asked, “Why would you even want to hang out with me, anyway?”
“Oh, man! Am I so glad you asked me that question! I mean, like, finally because I’ve been wanting to tell you all week but I didn’t know how to bring it up because it’s kinda embarrassing but now you asked so I can tell you how cool I think you are and how much I think that I can learn from you.”
Buster snorted. “Like what?”
“Like everything! I mean you’re so cool and calm and collected and you sit so still and you stay so quiet and I can’t do any of that! I’m definitely not cool calm and collected. And I was hoping you could teach me how to be that stuff because you seem to do it all the time without even trying like it comes completely naturally to you and also I mean you’re really old right so thought you probably have some really interesting stories to tell about your life like I mean what kinda life makes someone so cool and calm and collected all the time like that must be some life right?”
“Is that right?” Buster stiffened. “You got some nerve, pup.”
“Huh?”
“You think you can come over here and make fun of me?”
“I’m not–”
“I’m so quiet and still and brittle and old.”
“That’s not what I meant–”
“Just an old dog who can’t move and doesn’t talk to anyone because he doesn’t have any friends.”
“I’ll be your friend.”
Apollo looked up at Buster, and for a second Buster was almost fooled into believing him.
“I don’t want you as my friend!” Buster shouted, louder than he had meant to.
“Oh.” Apollo looked away from Buster. “I get it now. I mean, you haven’t really been busy this week at all have you but you’ve been telling me you are, so I’d leave you alone because I’m annoying and I talk too fast and too much.” Apollo sniffled. “I understand. I mean, that’s how some of the other dogs here feel, too but, I thought maybe you’d maybe be different from them since you’re so different from them in all these other ways. Like–maybe one way you’d be different is if you'd actually want to hang out with me?”
“I don’t want to hang out with anyone. I just want to be left alone,” Buster told Apollo.
“Okay I get it I mean I don’t want to bother you or be annoying so I’ll leave you alone now and I’m really sorry I annoyed you all week and I promise I didn’t mean to. I swear. I really didn't, I just can’t help it I guess.”
Apollo turned and walked away slowly, head drooped to the floor. He didn’t stop to look back even once. Buster knew because he watched him the whole way.
Buster told himself he didn’t feel bad. Hadn’t he tried to let the pup down easy all week? Wasn’t he just trying to protect himself from being made a fool by some prank anyway? It was nothing personal against Apollo. He would have done the same to any of the office dogs who spent a week trying to be his friend. This was just the way he was. Why couldn’t Apollo have accepted that on Monday and moved on? Why did the pup insist on coming around day after day? The whole mess was Apollo’s fault, not his.
Buster told himself all these things over and over, but he kept coming back to one specific thought every time: None of the other office dogs had ever spent a week trying to become Buster’s friend. Try as he might not to, Buster couldn’t help but start to feel a little guilty. Apollo had seemed extremely genuine. It certainly seemed that Buster had hurt the poor pup’s feelings. Maybe he wasn’t setting up an elaborate ruse to mock Buster after all. Maybe he did want to learn from Buster and be his friend, and even though that was all quite stupid because friendships never last, young Apollo didn’t know that.
It was clear, Buster had wounded the pup with his rejection, and Buster knew all too well how much the wound of rejection truly hurt. It had never been his intention to sadden Apollo, to make him feel bad. Things had gotten out of hand, and Buster could see how he had perhaps overreacted just a little bit.
Buster decided it couldn’t hurt to try to maybe go apologize for his small part in making a mess of things and to explain how Apollo had a hand in it as well. It could be a learning moment. Hadn’t the pup said he wanted to learn from his elder? This would make a fine first lesson.
So Buster pulled his old body up from its usual lying down position. His hip and leg joints all cracked one by one as he stood, resolute, ready to go smooth things over with Apollo.
Despite his best intentions, Buster never made it all the way to Apollo’s desk. It was the sound that slowed his progress first. As he approached, he could hear the crying, and it wasn’t just some little whimper either. Even from a distance he could tell the pup was full blown sobbing. Buster skulked forward, reluctant in his footsteps now, afraid of what he’d see around the bend, down the row of desks that led to Apollo and his adopted older sister, Ellie’s dog beds.
He saw exactly what he’d feared he’d heard. Apollo bawling, his little body shaking with sadness as the new puppy in the office, a cowboy corgi he believed was called Joey, consoling him as Ellie stood over them, rigid, vigilant, and protective.
“Why doesn’t he want to be my friend? Why doesn’t anyone here like me?” Apollo asked between sobs.
“I like you, Apollo.” Joey placed a gentle paw on her little friend’s head.
“Really?” Apollo looked up through his tears. “Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Then why doesn’t anyone else? Why does everyone make fun of me? Why does Buster hate me?”
“Buster hates himself,” Ellie told them. “Don’t you ever let that mean old dog make you feel bad about yourself. He’s miserable, so he makes everyone around him miserable.”
The whole scene made Buster’s stomach hurt, and yet couldn’t turn away from this private moment he was witnessing, unbeknownst to the three dogs he was watching. Apollo’s words cut through his defenses. It crushed Buster to know he’d made someone feel the bad things other dogs had made him feel. He knew how terrible that was, and how terrible he was now, for passing that abuse along to someone so sweet and innocent.
Ellie’s words were just as gutting because he knew she wasn’t wrong in her assessment. No matter how harsh her words had been, he had no argument in his defense. He realized now there were no lessons he could teach Apollo, or teach anyone for that matter. He had no right to place even a smidgen of the blame upon Apollo, and he wasn’t worthy of expressing his apologies.
He was about to turn and leave when Ellie caught him watching. Her eyes narrowed and locked onto his, and she wasted no time marching with intent in his direction. Buster stood frozen, petrified of what else she might have to say to him, quite sure that he deserved every bit of it.
“How can you live with yourself, Buster? Making such a good, pure puppy feel so sad and awful, just because he wanted to be your friend. How coldhearted must you be to come over here and take pleasure in your handiwork??”
“I–I….”, Buster stammered.
“Oh he speaks. Don’t try for a second to defend yourself. I know you. I know what you’re really like. I tried to tell Apollo but he wouldn’t listen. He tries to see the good in everyone. Unfortunately for his poor soul, there’s not a shred of good in you.”
“Now hold on just a second,” Buster interjected. “I did not, under any circumstances, come over here to revel in the business of making young Apollo cry. Contrary to what you may believe, I am not heartless. I was coming over to apologize for my part in this whole mess.”
“And what part might that be?” Ellie asked, emphasizing the word and raising an eyebrow.
“Well, obviously, now I can plainly see that my part was all of it. That’s why I stopped here. I was embarrassed. I’m ashamed.
“You should be.”
“You don’t understand. You think you know so much, that you know everything about me. You don’t know anything. No one here understands what I’ve been through.”
“Okay then, Buster. I have time. Why don’t you make me understand?”
Buster sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try. After how you’ve been treating Apollo, I believe you owe us an explanation.”
Buster drew a deep, heavy breath. He knew he would need all the strength in his old dog body and his old dog mind to get through what was to come next. It had been years since he had told his story to anyone. He’d kept it buried, like a rotting bone, so deep he could almost just forget about it. Except he could never forget about it, because he’d buried it deep in himself, so he carried that rot around with him everywhere he went, and now he had to dig it back up, along with whatever might surface.
“I wasn’t always like this, you know? I used to have a family. I used to have a home. I used to have a different person.” He swallowed hard, clenched the muscles in his face. “Until one day I didn’t. One day, my person left, and they never came back.
He was a nice man, my person. He liked to wear brightly colored shirts. He’d take me on long walks and car rides. We’d go hiking in the parks and the canyons together. He took me camping with him sometimes. I was a good dog. I think it made him feel safe. Or I thought I made him feel safe. I thought we were safe, because we had each other.
He had a bald head and a big smile and a great laugh. I’d do silly things sometimes, just to make him laugh, just because I loved the sound of it. I thought I made him happy. I thought that he was happy to be my person and for me to be his dog. I was so happy to be his dog. I loved him so much, and I thought he loved me too.
Then one day he left. He left me home alone, and he never came back. At first I thought he’d just gone camping without me. I got hungry. I got thirsty. On the second day, it rained, and I drank water from puddles and the birdbath in the yard.
I was so hungry, but I wouldn’t pull the food bag off the shelf. I could have. I could have knocked it over, ripped it open, but I didn’t. Not at first. I didn’t because I was sure he would come home any minute, and if I made a mess, I worried he’d be mad at me.
After a few days, my stomach hurt so much, I was about to break down and knock my food bag over. Spill it all over the floor so I could finally eat something. Then I heard his key in the door. I remember I barked so loud then, probably louder than I’d ever barked before. I’d been so worried. I was so happy he’d finally come home.
Except it wasn’t him. It was his brother. I knew his brother. I’d met him before. He fed me, and he gave me water, but he didn’t talk to me, and he barely looked at me. I was so hungry and thirsty, at first all I did was eat and drink, but when I was done with that, I realized he’d left the kitchen. I checked the living room. He wasn't there either. I found him in my person’s bedroom, pulling clothes out of the closet.
I barked at him to stop, and he snapped at me. He told me to be quiet. He called me a bad dog. Then he left with the clothes from the closet – suits and ties and dress shoes – and I was alone for another two days.
When he came back, he brought people I didn’t recognize into the house with him. I’d never seen those men before, but I’ll never forget them. They started packing things up, filling boxes and carrying furniture out the door. I barked at them to stop, but just like my person’s brother, they didn’t listen. No one listened. No one cared.
I thought maybe we were moving.That had to be the answer. His brother packed my food and water bowls, my leashes, and my toys into a box. He invited me along as he carried the box to his car. A new hope welled within me. Perhaps my person had gotten a new job unexpectedly and had to move quickly, without notice.That would explain his brother pulling suits out of his closet. He’d needed them for work, of course. Now that he’d found a new place and settled in, I was on my way to see him. I wagged my tail on that walk to the car. Soon we would be reunited in our brand new home together.
Imagine my shock and confusion when instead his brother took me to some awful place instead. I learned later it was called “The Shelter.” He handed me off to a stranger and left without giving me so much as a pat on the head. The stranger led me down a hallway lined with barking dogs in tiny cages until we arrived at an empty cage and I was forced inside. No matter how loud I barked, no matter how long. No one listened. My barks blended in with the sounds of all the other dogs stuck there. I still don’t know what happened to my toys and leashes. I never saw any of it again.
For a while, I held out hope that he would come for me. I made the mistake of telling the other dogs, when things had quieted that night. They snickered and mocked me, told me he was never coming back, that I should just forget about him. My cage was cold and musty, and the whole place often stank because some of the dogs there weren’t house trained.
It didn’t take long after that for me to figure out what had actually happened. My person had left, and he’d decided not to take me along. He had left me behind and never looked back. The coward couldn’t even tell me. He didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.
I did my best then to focus on helping the puppies, to guard them from the meaner dogs, to teach them how to go outside to relieve themselves when it was time for them to outgrow paper training. They were so tiny and so scared. They looked up to me. I liked those puppies. I befriended them. I grew to care for them. I admit I might have even loved a couple, not that it ever did me any good. They all left, just like my person left, and just like my person, not a single one of them cared enough to even try to take me with them.
I don’t know how long I stayed in that place. I lost track and stopped counting. It felt like forever. My person never came for me. Every friend I had left me behind for their new families and better lives. By the time the lady you all know as my person came and took me away from that despicable place, I wasn’t the dog I’d been before I got there.
Her house is nice. It’s certainly better than the shelter she took me away from, but what good does that do me when I know she could just move away and take me back there anytime she chooses? Why get comfortable? Why make friends, when this can all be ripped from me again, for no good reason, without warning?”
Buster looked at Ellie, his face hard, his jaw set. He had thought telling the story would make him sad, but it had only made him angry. His breaths came quick and shallow, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession with each one. “Well?” he said. “You got it out of me. Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Ellie’s face remained soft, her eyes calm and gentle. “Oh Buster,” she said. “Oh no.”
“What?” His voice snapped like a trap.
“Buster, I don’t know how to say this.” Ellie paused. “I don’t think your person moved. I think they moved on.”
“I’m absolutely certain they moved on. They definitely never looked back. They probably forgot all about me the second they walked out the door.”
“No, Buster. I mean I think he passed on.”
“Passed on what? What are you talking about?”
“Buster….I think, maybe, your person died.”
Buster blinked. “What?”
“The way you describe it, that he was just gone one day, his brother taking suits out of his closet, the men packing all of his things. I don’t think he left you, not the way you think he did.”
“He’s…gone??” The word caught in Buster’s throat. The room tilted. Its temperature rose. “He’s dead?”
“Buster, I’m so sorry. I really think so.”
“Why didn’t his brother tell me that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t think you’d understand? Maybe he thought you understood without him telling you? Maybe he just thought it would make you much too sad. I wish I could tell you.”
Buster choked, swallowed, and took a deep, choppy breath. “I’ve been mad at him this whole time for leaving me.”
“I don’t think that he left you on purpose.” Ellie said, her voice compassionate and understanding.
“I never got to tell him how great I thought he was.”
“Oh Buster. I’m sure he knew.”
“We never got to say goodbye.”
Silence spread between them. Buster sat, unable to speak, paralyzed by the weight of this reality.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Ellie sounded far away and underwater.
“What?” Buster asked, blank-faced. “No. I think I need to be alone.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Actually, there is one thing.”
“Yes?”
Could you tell Apollo that I’m sorry?”
“Of course.”
“And could you tell him that I really mean it?”
He walked back to his desk in a daze, crumpled on his pad, and laid there lost in his sadness, head swirling with regret, his whole body numb with his new knowledge of the truth he’d somehow missed.
“Hey Buster!” Apollo’s voice interrupted his grief. “I wanted to come talk to you because Ellie said you said you were sorry so I wanted to come tell you I accept your apology and I forgive you, even though Ellie said I shouldn’t come over here and I should leave you alone but I know when I apologize and I don’t know if someone accepts my apology and forgives me it makes me super anxious like are they really okay or are they still mad at me and do they secretly hate me so I wanted to let you know I’m really okay and I’m not mad at you and I don’t hate you and…” the puppy trailed off. “Are you okay?”
Buster realized he was finally crying. Something about Apollo’s sweet, sincere apology had broken the emotional dam inside of him, and now years of hurt and sadness flooded out his eyes. “I’m okay, Apollo.”
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no. It’s nothing you said. You’re perfect.” Buster smiled through his tears. I realized today that I lost someone.”
“I could help you find them,” Apollo offered.
“Thank you, Apollo. Unfortunately, they’re gone, and they’re not coming back. I loved them a lot, and they loved me, but we’ll never see each other again.”
“Why not?”
“You’re very young. I don’t want to burden you with such grown up things.”
“You can tell me.”
“They–” Buster struggled to come up with a kinder, gentler way to say it, but he came up blank. “They died.”
“Oh,” said Apollo. “That is sad. I’m sorry. I know about dead because Ellie and I have talked about it because one of her persons died before I came along, did you know that?”
“I did not know that, no.”
“Can I sit here with you?”
“Sit here with me?”
“Yeah I mean you’re really sad and you’re all alone and nobody should be all alone when they’re really sad so you should have a friend to comfort you because that’s what friends are for you know.”
Buster cocked his head. “You still want to be my friend?”
“Well, yeah. I do. I mean, if you want me to be your friend I mean I understand if you don’t because I talk a lot and don’t sit still but I promise not to talk and sit super still with you right now if that’s okay and you want me to be your friend I mean.”
“I think I would like that very much, Apollo.”
Apollo came closer and rested his tiny brown paw on Buster’s big yellow paw.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
This story was brought to you through the Child and Adolescent Program at Sanctuary Centers of Santa Barbara.
Author: Derek Cowsert | Illustrator: Mindy Kilgore